Stom  f0e  feifirarg  of 

$xofmot  TWffiam  (Stiver  (ffcrfon,  ©.©.,  &&.©. 

$reeenfeo  6p  (tttre.  (patfon 

to  f0e  feifirarg  of 

(prtncefon  fcfleofogtcaf  ^eminarj 


U 


"R?,3;    5 


lhh 


LIBRARY  OF  PRINCETON 


MAY  2  4  2005 


THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2010  with  funding  from 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


http://www.archive.org/details/socialclassesoraOOcoff 


SOCIAL  CLASSES: 


AN   ORATION 


DELIVERED  BEFORE  THE 


GENERAL  UNION  PHILOSOPHICAL  SOCIETY 


DICKINSON    COLLEGE, 


CARLISLE,   PENNSYLVANIA. 


July  11th,  1849. 


BY 
v 
REV.   GEORGE  A.   COFFEY,  A.M., 

A     GRADUATE     MEMBER. 

WASHINGTON,   D.  C. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
T.    K.    AND   P.    G.    COLLINS,    PRINTERS 

1849. 


Dickinson  College,  July  12th,  1849. 
Rev.  G.  A.  Coffey — 
Dear  Sir:  We  have  the  honor  to  express  to  you  the  thanks  of  the 
General  Union  Philosophical  Society  for  your  excellent  oration,  delivered 
before  them  last  evening,  and  earnestly  to  request  a  copy  for  publication. 
"With  great  respect, 

Your  obedient  servants, 

JOHN  WILSON, 
J.  W.  MARSHALL, 
C.  C.  TIFFANY, 
Stand.  Com.  of  the  G.  U.  P.  S. 


Carlisle,  July  12th,  1849. 
Gentlemen: — 

I  have  received  your  note  of  to-day,  requesting,  on  behalf  of  the 
General  Union  Philosophical  Society,  a  copy  of  my  address  of  yesterday 
for  publication.  As  a  faithful  Union,  the  approbation  of  the  Society  is  my 
sufficient  reward.     Of  course,  my  speech  is  at  their  disposal. 

Your  most  obedient  servant, 

GEO.  A.  COFFEY. 
Jno.  Wilson,  J.  W.  Marshall,  C.  C.  Tiffany, 
Stand.  Com.  G.  U.  P.  S. 


SOCIAL     CLASSES. 


Fellow  Members 

of  the  General  Union  Philosophical  Society  : — 

We  are  gathered  here  from  successive  college  classes, 
and  years,  and  generations.  The  past  and  the  future 
concentrate  in  this  hour.  The  occasion  awakens,  at 
once,  memory  and  hope.  Some  of  you  are  about  to 
exchange  the  retreats  sacred  to  study  for  the  jostling 
world;  to  step  from  the  gymnasium  into  the  arena. 
You  are  eagerly  looking  forward.  Hope,  that  most  skill- 
ful artist  of  the  ideal,  composes  a  future  for  you  more 
glowing  than  the  figures  of  Titian,  and  sunnier  than  the 
landscapes  of  Claude.  You  fancy  yourselves  plumed  to 
soar  like  the  falcon  when  the  leash  is  slipped.  Heaven 
grant  that  you  may  realize  your  hopes ;  if  not  the  very 
matter  of  them,  at  least  their  equivalent ! 

But  some  of  us  indulge  more  pensive  feelings.  When, 
after  years  of  absence,  we  revisit  this  Eden  of  a  valley, 
and  this  Carlisle,  a  very  Damascus  in  its  beauty  of  place, 
and  linger  amid  yonder  college  halls  and  grounds,  the 
scene  of  so  many  studious  toils,  and  merry  rambles,  of 
so  much  enthusiasm  and  improvement,  intervening  time 
disappears;  memory  enlivens  into  reality;  and  old 
joys  and  loves  come  back,  like  the  spirits  of  the  de- 


6 

parted,  to  a  mourner,  in  sweet  dreams.     Those  happy 
college  days !     As  they  recede  they  brighten. 

And,  because  some  of  us,  brother  Unions,  are  now,  for 
the  first  time,  with  you  in  general  meeting,  by  an  ob- 
vious association  we  revert  to  the  past  fortunes,  and 
the  original  institution  of  our  society.  Our  fraternity  is 
not  antediluvian  or  medieval,  but  it  is  sixty  years  old. 
And,  in  this  age  of  steam  and  telegraphs,  of  three-day 
revolutions,  and  ten-day  voyages  to  Europe,  sixty  years 
are  something.  In  that  time,  we  have  favored  the  world 
with  a  fair  assortment  of  lawyers,  physicians,  ministers, 
warriors,  congressmen,  governors,  ambassadors,  secre- 
taries, and  an  occasional  specimen  of  the  author  and 
poet.  But,  although  we  have  not  made  much  of  a  noise, 
yet  the  outside  world  has  made  a  great  deal.  The  last 
sixty  years  have  been  the  most  changeful,  crowded,  start- 
ling, and  picturesque  period  of  history.  Our  society  was 
instituted  in  1789.  In  that  year,  the  American  Revolu- 
tion was  consolidated  by  the  definitive  adoption  of  the 
Federal  Constitution.  In  that  year,  the  Republic  began 
her  positive  career.  She  was  independent  and  organized, 
but  inexperienced,  in  debt,  sparsely  populated,  and  alone 
in  the  forest.  Since  then,  the  thirteen  States  have 
spread  into  thirty,  the  three  millions  of  people  into 
twenty-two  millions ;  the  boundary  that  lay  east  of  the 
Mississippi  runs  far  along  the  Pacific  Ocean,  and  the 
vast  area  of  prairie,  river,  and  forest,  then  relieved  only 
by  the  whoop  of  the  Indian,  and  the  smoke  of  the  emi- 
grant's cabin,  is  now  alive  with  civilization.  The  colo- 
nies, whose  gallant  bearing  only  attracted  the  sympathies 
of  a  few  Pulaskis  and  Lafayettes,  and  whose  successful 
revolt  won  a  careless  and  incidental  recognition  from 
the  kings  of  Europe,  have  grown  into  a  gigantic  nation, 
that  throws  its  bright  shadow  all  over  this  western  con- 


tinent,  and  is  become  a  fountain  of  ideas,  and  a  model 
of  progress  to  the  old  world.  In  the  year  1789,  began 
the  French  Revolution.  In  that  year,  Marie  Antoinette 
glittered  at  Versailles,  and  Napoleon  was  a  school-boy. 
In  that  year,  the  States-General  met,  Mirabeau  thun- 
dered, and  the  Bastile  was  demolished.  Since  then, 
what  events !  The  Reign  of  Terror,  the  roar  of  Austerlitz, 
the  Emperor  and  his  Marshals,  the  Iron  Duke,  and 
Waterloo,  follow  each  other,  the  wonders  and  heroes  of 
a  Titanic  tragedy.  And  now,  after  thirty  years  of  com- 
parative quiet,  interrupted  only  by  such  incomplete  in- 
cidents as  the  Barricades  of  1830,  and  the  hapless  insur- 
rection in  Poland,  revolution  has  burst  forth  again,  and 
sweeps  like  a  blinding  gale  over  central  Europe.  The 
people  have  risen  in  great  wrath.  Thrones  are  encir- 
cling themselves  with  cannon.  Presently,  the  billowy 
surface  of  events  will  be  covered  with  the  wrecks  of 
ancient  institutions.  Everywhere  insurrection  is  de- 
stroying the  old,  constituent  assemblies  are  modeling 
the  new,  and  cabinets  are  plotting  reaction.  Italy  spas- 
modically struggles  against  crowns  and  popes.  Germany 
is  reducing  her  science  and  speculation  to  practice  ;  but 
her  sovereigns  oppose;  and  the  result  is  a  very  chaos  of 
barricades,  constitutions,  sieges,  and  concessions.  France, 
though  a  republic  in  form,  seems  menaced  by  monarchists 
and  communists  alike.  Revolutionary  in  her  existence, 
yet,  with  a  Gallic  consistency,  she  ignores  revolution 
elsewhere.  Like  a  bright  planet  in  a  cloudy  sky,  the 
Hungarian  Magyars,  the  chivalry  of  Protestantism,  are 
vindicating  the  renown  and  the  franchises  of  a  thousand 
years,  and  their  victorious  swords  are  flashing  defiance 
alike  at  routed  Austria  and  invading  Russia.     On  the 

*  Alas!  that  planet  Lb  now  in  ocndtation. 


8 

track  of  revolution  inarches  war.  The  Cossacks  begin 
to  advance  from  the  East.  French  armies  will,  ere  long, 
concentrate  on  the  Alps  and  the  Ehine.  It  is  to  be 
feared  that  Europe  will  again  become  a  camp  and  a 
battle-field. 

The  Conservative  and  Romanticist  will  attribute  these 
confusions  to  an  over-speculative  philosophy,  and  an 
infidel  theology.  The  Liberalist  hails  them  as  the  rough 
steps  of  progress.  The  Democrat  exults  in  them  as 
inaugurating  the  sovereignty  of  the  people.  The  Phi- 
losopher analyzes  them  as  the  outward  issue  of  that  con- 
flict of  opinion,  which  increases  from  controversy  to 
partisanship,  and  thence  to  arms.  The  Historian  will 
treat  1848  and  '49  as  in  connected  tissue  with  the 
days  of  July,  the  rout  of  Waterloo,  the  Revolution  of 
1789,  and  the  oppressions  of  the  middle  ages.  All 
these  theories  are,  in  some  of  their  aspects,  true.  Hu- 
manity is  in  progress.  That  progress  involves  many 
innovations ;  so  that,  on  the  one  hand,  it  interferes  with 
the  preconceptions  of  the  vassals  of  tradition,  and  with 
such  interests  as  depend  on  the  present  status ;  and,  on 
the  other  hand,  it  may  be  hurried,  or  misguided  by  the 
enthusiasts,  who  mistake  logical  abstractions  for  prac- 
tical wisdom.  Hence,  human  progress  may  be  either 
directly  opposed,  or  else  brought  into  accidental  conflict 
with  other  necessities;  and,  therefore,  it  is  sometimes 
unsteady,  stormy,  and  bloody.  But  though  the  course 
of  events  marches  over  thrones  and  barricades  alike,  and 
disappoints  both  legitimists  and  socialists,  yet  it  is  on- 
ward and  upward. 

The  present  era  is  the  struggle  of  society  to  classify 
itself  more  naturally.  Artificial  divisions  are  crumbling, 
or  rending  to  pieces.  The  social  orders  are  rushing  into 
a  collision  that  centuries  have  been  engendering.     Amid 


9 

the  crash  of  revolution  and  the  clang  of  arms,  can  be  dis- 
tinguished the  remonstrances  of  stripped  Nobilities,  the 
forebodings  of  the  timid  "  Bourgeoisie,"  and  the  wail  of 
insurgent  Operatives.  The  question  is  between  privilege, 
property,  and  right.  But,  although  the  classes  of  so- 
ciety will  be  rearranged,  they  cannot  be  done  away.  All 
nature  is  a  vast  contexture  of  class  embracing  class. 
Genus  and  species  are  necessary  forms  of  thought. 
There  are  orders  in  the  angelic  world.  Although  men 
are  the  same  in  essence,  and  equal  as  to  rights,  yet  they 
are  unequal  in  imysical  endowments,  talents,  and  cha- 
racter. Now  there  is  a  universal  law  of  moral  gravita- 
tion. Like  attracts  like.  Therefore,  the  very  same  ten- 
dencies that  organize  society  will  dispose  it  into  classes. 
These  classes,  are  only  different  but  alike  necessary 
developments,  of  the  same  uniting  principle  whence 
spring  families,  nations,  and  churches.  The  learned  and 
intellectual,  the  rich  and  high-born,  the  fashionable  and 
polished,  the  pious  and  benevolent,  the  ignorant  and 
rude,  the  trifling  and  vicious,  because  they  are  unlike 
in  fact  and  nature,  will,  therefore,  in  a  community  that 
is  naturally  organized,  always  be  distinct  socially.  "We 
need  not  term  them  higher  or  lower  ranks.  Such  terms 
only  embarrass  the  subject  by  introducing  irrelevant 
ideas.  It  is  better  to  speak  of  various  classes,  or,  if  the 
Fourierites  will  allow,  groups  or  series.  Any  of  these 
divisions  is  first  in  some  respects,  and  inferior  in  others, 
according  as  the  standard  of  comparison  is  money, 
birth,  manners,  mind,  or  virtue.  The  Conservative  mis- 
takes, not  in  insisting  that  there  always  will  be  social 
grades,  but  in  taking  for  granted  that  they  need  arti- 
ficial aid.  The  Socialist  is  right  when  he  would  level 
prescriptive  inequalities ;  it  is  well  to  destroy  all  classes 
created  by  law  or  arbitrary  usage.  But  he  forgets  that 
2 


10 

society  will  spontaneously  classify  itself  by  the  elective 
affinities  of  its  individuals.  Indeed,  it  is  possible  that 
classes  may  be  constituted  somewhat  artificially,  and  yet 
the  people  may  be  free.  Great  Britain  is  the  most  aris- 
tocratic nation  in  Europe.  Yet  nowhere  is  there  more 
civil  liberty.  A  lord  may  cut  a  commoner's  acquaintance, 
but  he  touches  his  house  or  person  at  his  own  peril. 
A  peasant's  vote  goes  as  far  as  a  duke's.  The  French 
are  for  ever  chattering  about  equality,  but  their  liberty 
is  rather  a  farce. 

But  society  is  in  its  most  normal  and  efficient  condi- 
tion, when  its  classes,  without  any  tinkering  of  law, 
form,  improve,  dissolve,  and  re-arrange  by  the  free  work- 
ing of  nature,  and  when  every  man's  place  in  the  scale 
depends  on  his  own  talents  and  industry.  This  principle 
of  classification  explains  at  once  our  own  tranquil  pros- 
perity, and  the  convulsions  in  Europe.  When  a  state 
usurps  nature's  office,  and  tries  its  own  expedients  of 
privilege,  monopoly,  title,  primogeniture,  and  ceremony, 
intestine  animosities  will  be  fomented,  and  as  soon  as  the 
galled  and  impoverished  orders  grow  strong  and  intelli- 
gent, revolution  ensues,  with  its  reactions  and  wars,  until 
society  subsides  into  a  natural  condition. 

Were  men  perfect,  they  would  group  themselves  ac- 
cording to  personal  and  intrinsic  distinctions,  such  as 
knowledge  or  goodness.  But  we  are  so  governed  by  the 
objective,  that  social  classes  have  ever  been  formed  by 
an  extrinsic  and  tangible  standard,  which  is  property. 
And,  accordingly,  without  regarding  other  or  minor  divi- 
sions, every  civilized  people  may  be  comprehended  under 
three  classes. 

The  first  class,  called  the  aristocratic,  embraces  those 
who  are  maintained  by  their  possessions,  and  who,  being 
rich,  can  live  in  style  without  labor.     In  most  ages  and 


11 

countries,  this  class  have  enjoyed  exclusive  and  heredit- 
ary privileges.  They  were  the  Patricians  of  Rome,  and 
the  Barons  of  the  middle  ages ;  they  are  the  Brahmins 
and  Rajahs  of  the  East,  and  the  Peers  of  modern  Eu- 
rope. In  our  own  country,  as  it  will  be  in  all  others,  by 
the  progress  of  civilization,  there  is  no  monopoly  of  po- 
litical privilege,  and  no  external  badge  of  aristocracy. 

The  second  class,  called  the  middle,  is  composed  of 
those  who  are  at  all  dependent  on  their  own  exertions. 
As  without  labor,  either  manual  or  intellectual,  they  will 
want,  so  by  labor  they  are  afforded  competence,  and  often 
independence.  Here  belong  our  farmers,  and  mechanics, 
and  merchants,  and  learned  professions.  This  class  ex- 
hibits the  most  opposite  varieties  of  pursuit,  character, 
and  life;  it  claims  rich  and  poor,  gentle  and  simple, 
polished  and  rude.  Its  extremities  are  so  wide  apart, 
that,  in  modern  times,  they  blend  gradually  with  the 
classes  lying  above  and  below. 

The  third  class,  which  might  be  called  the  pauper, 
comprises  those  whose  labor  does  not  support  them,  and 
who  are,  therefore,  dependent  on  others.  Such  are  the 
"  proletaires"  and  "lazzaroni"  of  European  cities,  the 
serfs  of  Russia  and  other  Sclavonic  countries,  a  large 
part  of  the  peasantry  of  Ireland,  the  slaves  and  most 
free  negroes  of  our  Union,  and,  indeed,  all  those  unfor- 
tunates that  drag  through  life  in  alleys,  and  cellars, 
and  fill  our  courts,  and  prisons,  and  almshouses.  This 
class  is  recruited  partly  by  indolence  and  vice,  and  largely 
by  the  culpable  negligence  of  society. 

If  the  first  of  these  classes  be  the  gilded  ornament  of 
society,  and  the  last  its  deformity  and  sore,  the  middle 
one  is  its  strength  and  its  hope.  For  the  condition  of 
the  middle  classes,  much  more  than  that  of  the  others, 
is  favorable  to  developing  all  the  energies,  and  thereby 


12 

all  the  excellences  of  human  nature.  Labor  is  the  con- 
dition of  all  progress,  whether  material;,  intellectual,  or 
moral,  whether  individual  or  social. 

Now,  the  first  class  is  raised  above  the  necessity  of 
laboring.  Hence,  aristocracies  are  so  indolent  that  they 
achieve  very  little  in  business,  government,  the  church, 
literature,  or  science.  Except  as  they  are  dragged  along 
by  the  advance  of  the  other  classes,  they  stagnate  in  their 
saloons,  carriages,  and  opera  boxes.  And  then  wealth 
and  rank  afford  the  means,  and  thereby  the  temptation, 
to  unlawful  indulgence.  They  raise  men  above  the  re- 
straints of  public  opinion.  They  enable  men  to  throw 
such  beauty  around  sin,  as  will  recommend  it  to  con- 
sciences lulled  or  seeking  for  pretexts.  True,  high  life 
now  is  more  decorous  and  virtuous  than  formerly.  But 
this  is  because  advancing  civilization  equalizes  society, 
and  so  intermingles  its  different  classes,  that  the  middle 
one,  in  return  for  the  elegance  that  it  shares  more  and 
more  with  high  life,  bestows  on  the  latter  an  exotic  vigor. 
Aristocracies  are  polished  in  manner  and  refined  in  taste, 
frequently  they  are  brave  and  generous,  but  it  is  their 
characteristic  spirit  to  hold  labor  to  be  vulgar,  to  prefer 
the  past  to  the  present,  and  display  to  solidity. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  pauper  class  are  too  depressed 
or  too  bad  for  labor.  The  State  gives  them  no  chances 
of  rising,  or,  if  any,  they  will  throw  them  away.  Con- 
sequently, they  have  no  hope;  and  despair  makes  no 
effort.  They  are  both  idle  and  improvident.  Neglected 
by  society,  because  it  acts  too  exclusively  on  the  com- 
petitive, "laissez  faire"  principle,  they  grow  up  in  gross 
ignorance.  Accustomed  only  to  vicious  associations, 
their  very  friends  and  homes  make  them  worse.  In  the 
very  centres  of  European  and  Anglo-Saxon  enlighten- 
ment, are  thousands  of  forlorn  creatures  whose  only 


13 

sensibility  is  wretchedness;  whose  only  solace  is  the 
excitement  of  sin,  or  the  callousness  of  long  suffering; 
who  are  industrious  only  in  beggary  and  law  breaking; 
who  know  nothing  of  society  but  its  neglects,  its  evils, 
and  its  punishments;  whose  homes  are  the  street,  the 
grogshop,  or  the  hospital;  whose  whole  life  is  like  a  cold, 
rainy  day.  The  existence  of  such  a  class  indicates  not 
only  personal  depravity,  but  that  the  social  body  is  or- 
ganized imperfectly.  Their  increase  would  portend  social 
decay.  The  first  duty  of  society,  is,  to  these,  at  once  its 
dread,  its  shame,  and  its  problem.  We  waste  millions 
on  armies,  powder,  and  epaulettes ;  it  were  better  to  use 
our  millions  in  teaching  and  Christianizing  the  poor,  in 
giving  them,  not  enervating  largesses,  but  the  motives, 
means,  and  rewards  of  industry. 

There  are  some  curious  coincidences  between  the  pau- 
per and  aristocratic  classes.  The  one  never  exists  with- 
out the  other.  Palaces  and  hovels  are  commonly  in 
juxtaposition.  Wherever  there  are  lords,  beggars  jostle 
them  in  the  streets.  The  lowest  class  are  the  most  ob- 
sequious to  aristocracy,  because  it  dazzles  the  eye,  and 
scatters  crumbs  under  its  table.  And  aristocracy,  in 
return,  does  a  great  deal  to  fill  up  the  ranks  of  pauper- 
ism. In  times  of  jar  and  disorganization,  the  first  and 
third  classes  have  sometimes  joined  in  a  motley  alliance 
against  the  second;  rags  and  velvets  against  the  toil  that 
weaves  them  both.  Aristocracy  and  pauperism  increase 
together,  until,  having  absorbed  every  other  class,  and 
standing  unsupported  like  pillars  in  a  desert,  they  both 
tumble  into  ruin ;  or  decrease  together,  until  both  are 
swallowed  in  an  Icarian  equality. 

But  now  the  middle  class,  while  it  is  under  the  neces- 
sity of  laboring,  has  also  chances  and  prospects.  Hence, 
it   engrosses   nearly  all  the   industry  of  a  nation.     It 


14 

boasts  the  brawny,  stalwart  men  that  fell  the  forest,  sow 
the  seed,  speed  the  plough,  and  gather  the  harvest;  that 
robe  our  plains  in  verdure,  and  festoon  our  hills  with 
vines;  that  drag  from  the  mines  that  servant  of  all 
work,  the  iron,  and  the  black  diamonds  that  blaze  in  our 
grates;  that  steer  our  ships  to  every  harbor,  float  our 
thirty-starred  flag  in  every  breeze,  and  pour  into  our 
laps  the  luxuries  of  every  clime;  that  wield  the  ham- 
mers and  saws,  and  make  our  towns  ring  with  the  cheer- 
ful noises  of  mechanic  handicraft ;  that  drive  the  facto- 
ries, and  ply  the  yardstick,  and  load  the  counter  with 
the  triumphs  of  industrial  art;  that  discover  new  chan- 
nels of  commerce,  invent  new  machinery  and  processes 
for  facilitating  production,  and  augment  capital  by  new 
investments ;  that  furnish  the  houses  we  live  in,  and  the 
clothes  we  wear,  and  the  victuals  we  eat,  and  the  roads 
we  travel.  The  steamboat  and  the  locomotive,  the 
cotton-gin  and  the  power-loom,  the  telegraph  that  har- 
nesses the  lightning,  and  the  daguerreotype  that  impri- 
sons the  light,  are  proofs  of  the  buoyant  and  manifold 
energies  of  the  popular  classes. 

And,  for  like  reasons,  these  classes  do  far  the  most  in 
enlarging  science,  perfecting  art,  and  speeding  the  pro- 
gress of  thought.  If  not  the  Maecenases  and  Medicis, 
they  are  the  intellectual  workers.  From  them  have 
sprung  the  geniuses,  the  lords  of  mind,  the  great  think- 
ers, the  vastly  learned,  the  master  artists,  the  magnates 
of  the  republic  of  letters.  The  Homers  and  Shakspeares 
of  poetry ;  the  Lockes,  Coleridges,  and  Kants  of  philoso- 
phy; the  Newtons,  and  Hunters,  and  Davys  of  science; 
the  Luthers,  and  Butlers,  and  Barrows  of  theology;  the 
Angelos,  and  Raphaels,  and  Rubenses  of  art ;  the  Peels, 
and  Guizots,  and  Clays,  and  Websters  of  statesmanship ; 
the  Eldons  and  Storys  of  law ;  the  Crom wells,  Napoleons, 


15 

and  Wasliingtons  of  the  field  and  cabinet  alike ; — although 
these  are  nature's  nobility  and  the  aristocracy  of  intel- 
lect, they  were  originally  but  commoners  in  the  State. 
The  great  body  of  the  votaries  of  knowledge,  the  theo- 
rists, projectors,  discoverers,  and  inventors;  the   intel- 
lectual file  leaders,  the  teachers   that   drudge   in   our 
schoolhouses,  the  professors  in  our  colleges,  the  editors, 
reviewers,  and  authors ;  the  brain-coiners  that  keep  up 
the  sparkling  array  of  newspapers,  magazines,  and  books ; 
that  create  new  views  of  truth,  ideals  of  beauty,  and 
stirring  thoughts  for  common    mankind;  the   lawyers, 
that  administer  justice,  and  the  divines  that  expound 
religion ;  the  popular  leaders,  that,  by  the  prerogative  of 
eloquence  and  foresight,  make  our  speeches,  and  frame 
our  laws,  and  shape  our  policy,  and  marshal  our  armies, 
and  forge  out  the  facts  that  make  history, — such  men 
are  not  reared  in  marble  halls ;  they  do  not  trace  lordly 
lineages;  they  are  the  children  of  the  people,  and  must 
needs,  at  least  in  earlier  life,  alloy  their  empyrean  gifts 
with  the  vulgarity  of  caring  for  bread  and  butter.     And 
the  aggregate  thought  and  conscience  of  the  people,  is 
that  potent  public  opinion  which  armies  dare  not  resist, 
of  which  kings  are  vassals,  and  governments  the  organ. 
The  middle  class  cannot  command  all  the  means  and 
charms  of  sin.     They  are  in  the  centre  of  the  influences 
of  public  opinion.     They  have  characters  and  opportu- 
nities to  lose.     The  home,  with  its  firesides  and  loves, 
is  their  characteristic  abode.     Consequently,  it  is  they 
chiefly,  that  honor  and  cherish  such  homely  virtues  as 
conjugal  fidelity,  filial  affection,  honesty,  and  friendship. 
And  they  are  proportionately  the  most  liberal ;  for  mod- 
erate competency  is  near  enough  to  want  to  feel  for  it, 
and  to  be  often  asked  by  it.     Their  prosperity  is  mutu- 
ally intertwined  with  that  of  their  country ;  and  accord- 


16 

ingly,  their  patriotism  enshrines  country  as  the  cynosure 
of  all  glorious  reminiscences,  yields  a  trusty  allegiance 
to  its  sovereignty,  rallies  at  its  minute  call,  and  dies  in 
its  defence.  Often,  when  nobility  has  danced  servile 
attendance  on  the  invader,  the  commons,  by  their  uncal- 
culating  persistence,  have  redeemed  the  soil.  Indeed, 
as  long  as  they  stand  steady,  there  never  can  be  success- 
ful invasion  or  successful  rebellion.  And  they  are  the 
natural  support  of  rational  religion.  Their  common 
sense  corrects  extravagance;  their  independence  resists 
the  undue  domination  of  creeds  and  clergy;  and  their 
ingrained  sense  of  right  keeps  up  the  standard  of  Chris- 
tian morals.  A  class,  at  once  the  most  industrious,  intel- 
ligent, and  religious,  must  be  the  happiest.  In  the  golden 
medium  of  the  social  state,  one  is  in  a  natural  position ; 
not  griped  by  poverty,  manacled  by  etiquette,  or  petrified 
by  grandeur.  His  staid  simplicity  may  be  less  imposing 
than  the  parade  of  high  life,  and  more  monotonous  than 
the  pathetic  adventures  of  low  life,  but  he  dwells  by  the 
very  sources  of  happiness — home,  nature,  and  freedom. 

From  all  this  it  appears  that,  in  proportion  to'  the  cha- 
racter, and  extent,  and  power  of  the  middle  classes,  will 
be  a  nation's  prosperity.  One  made  up  only  of  an  aris- 
tocracy and  its  destitute  dependents,  would  be  a  mon- 
strous anomaly;  all  head  and  limbs  without  a  body. 
Such  a  patchwork  of  jewels  and  tatters  would  either 
fall  to  pieces  by  its  own  weight,  or  be  blown  into  dust  by 
the  first  rude  puff  of  war.  But  the  middle  class  is  the 
very  core  of  a  nation's  life ;  it  is  at  once  the  soul  and  the 
body ;  the  brains,  the  heart,  the  blood,  and  the  hands.  It 
is  the  framework  of  the  building;  aristocracy  is  but  the 
entablature,  pauperism  the  rubbish  about  the  founda- 
tion. The  growth  of  this  central  order  is,  therefore,  the 
growth  of  the  entire  state  in  freedom,  plenty,  power,  and 


17 

happiness.  When  all  other  classes  are  so  lost  in  this 
one  that  wealth  is  pretty  equally  distributed,  all  pur- 
suits held  in  the  same  esteem,  and  property  neither 
monopolized  by  or  withheld  from  any  portion  of  the 
community,  that  community  will  have  approached  per- 
fection. There  would  be  a  true  equality;  for,  although 
there  would  be  various  modes  of  life,  yet  all  would  have 
equal  chances  to  labor,  and  to  be  paid  for  it.  Many 
would  be  rich,  but  the  very  richest  class  would  be  so 
small,  and  its  members  would  be  so  continually  coming 
from,  and  returning  to,  and  related  with  all  the  rest,  that 
men  would  rank  not  so  much  by  outward  circumstance, 
as  by  real  merit.  Thus,  there  would  be  no  invidious 
distinctions;  for  the  rich  would  only  be  first  in  one  re- 
spect, among  equals  or  superiors  in  other  respects.  Some 
would  be  poor  enough ;  but,  instead  of  being  disdained  or 
neglected,  they  would  be  treated  as  brethren  whose  for- 
tunes must  be  retrieved,  or  whose  helplessness  must  be 
assisted.  And  the  predominance  of  the  middle  class  is 
the  enfranchisement  of  all.  For  the  all-embracing  class 
would  be  too  mighty  to  be  ruled  except  as  they  chose, 
and  too  numerous  to  allow  any  monopoly  of  advantages. 
And  even  the  poorest,  being  always  connected  by  busi- 
ness and  relationship  with  the  body  of  the  people,  would 
be  sure  to  participate  in  the  common  liberty.  And 
where  all  are  equal  and  free,  mutual  ties  and  common 
interests  will  produce  reciprocity  and  fraternity.  In 
war,  a  people  thus  free,  equal,  and  brotherly,  would  form 
armies  obedient  indeed  to  discipline,  because  a  sponta- 
neous loyalty  is  most  faithful,  and  yet  they  would  be 
instinct  with  one  life,  like  organic  bodies;  they  would 
be  intelligent  and  enthusiastic,  and  therefore  invincible. 
Such  armies  have  given  to  fame  the  fields  of  Sempach, 
and  Morgarten,  and  Marengo,  and  Bunker  Hill,  and 
3 


18 

Saratoga,  and  Lundy's  Lane,  and  New  Orleans,  and 
Buena  Vista.  Such  a  people,  whether  they  range  the 
sands  of  Arabia,  the  mountains  of  Switzerland,  the  plains 
of  Hungary,  or  the  valleys  of  North  America,  may  be 
defeated,  but  never  conquered. 

And  this  gigantic  preponderance  of  the  middle  classes 
would  produce  the  highest  material  prosperity.  Not 
only  the  necessity  for  laboring,  but  the  equal  opportuni- 
ties, the  unrestrained  flow  and  abundance  of  the  rewards 
of  labor,  would  stimulate  competition.  Every  one  would 
be  a  worker  in  mind  or  body.  Efforts  would  be  directed 
to  every  promising  end.  Every  faculty  of  man  would 
be  developed.  Every  material  thing  would  be  trans- 
muted into  an  instrument  of  progress.  Fire,  earth,  air, 
and  water,  would  be  explored,  and  made  prolific  in  trea- 
sure, convenience,  knowledge,  and  beauty.  Every  acre 
would  be  cultivated,  every  river  navigated,  every  moun- 
tain delved;  every  mechanical  art  would  be  plied  to 
maturity;  manufactures  would  be  at  once  exquisite  and 
cheap;  commerce  would  clothe  all  in  purple  and  feed 
them  with  spices;  cities  would  stretch  their  swarming 
streets,  and  raise  their  mansions,  along  every  freighted 
water,  and  the  land  would  be  thronged  with  embowered 
villages,  and  a  teeming  population. 

Corresponding  to  all  this,  there  would  be  a  vast  intel- 
lectual activity.  Education  would  be  cheap  and  univer- 
sal. The  freedom  of  mind  would  evolve  all  its  powers. 
Schoolhouses  would  stand  at  every  street  corner,  and  at 
every  road  crossing.  Periodicals  and  books  would  load 
every  table.  Universities,  lyceums,  and  learned  societies 
would  engage  not  only  the  years  of  youth,  but  the  leisure 
of  all.  Literature  would  be  natural,  national,  varied, 
and  powerful.  Science  would  extend  its  researches  to 
all  the  secrets  of  nature.     Although  aristocracies  have 


19 

munificently  patronized  genius,  yet,  because  the  tastes  of 
middle  life  are  unsophisticated,  they  are  true,  and  there- 
fore genius  would  have  an  ample  field  for  its  massive 
proportions.  The  grandeurs  of  architecture  would  be 
receptacles  for  masterpieces  of  art.  Religion,  if  not 
established,  would  yet  be  national.  Differences  of  opin- 
ion would  repress  fanaticism,  and  put  life  into  formalism. 
Public  virtues  would  be  unalloyed  with  public  crimes. 
Simplicity,  order,  benevolence,  and  patriotism,  would 
combine  and  expand  into  a  national  character. 

All  this  may  seem  a  highly  colored  picture.  It  never 
has  been  realized  yet.  And  the  imperfections  of  actual 
life  may  always  keep  the  reality  below  the  description. 
But  the  law  of  national  grandeur  just  elucidated  is  con- 
firmed by  all  history.  As  the  plebeians  gradually  achieved 
privileges  and  consideration,  and  attempered  patrician 
arrogance  and  softness  with  their  iron  independence  and 
vigor,  Rome  grew  to  be  mistress  of  the  world.  At  her 
fall,  her  lands  had  been  engrossed  by  rich  proprietors, 
and  were  worked  by  slaves.  Poland  was  inhabited  only 
by  nobles  and  serfs,  and  hence  she  was  easily  dismem- 
bered. In  Ireland,  out  of  a  population  of  eight  millions, 
only  a  few  thousands  own  the  land,  and  more  than  three 
millions  are  starving.  Hence,  in  that  loved  and  blasted 
isle,  treason  to  the  Saxon  is  nothing  but  allegiance  to 
God.  In  France,  the  Revolution  of  1789  divided  pro- 
perty minutely .  Hence  the  phenomena  of  1848-9.  Her 
National  Guard  steady  the  progress  of  a  barricade  revo- 
lution, so  that  it  is  quite  orderly  and  bloodless.  Her 
"  bourgeoisie"  control  the  elections,  and  show  that  radical 
transformations  may  take  place  without  war.  England 
has  always  been  more  or  less  free,  because  her  Saxon 
knights,  and  burgesses,  and  franklins,  and  yeomanry 
were  always  strong  and  self-respecting.     The  decrease 


20 

of  her  small  freeholders  is  the  darkest  presage  in  her 
complicated  condition. 

The  United  States  are  little  more  than  a  large  middle 
class.     The  privilege  of  one  is  that  of  all.     The  office- 
holders dare  be  nothing  but  your  humble  servant.     They 
never  let  the  public  catch  them  taking  airs.     The  edu- 
cated and  virtuous  are  too  scattered  among  different  sects, 
parties,  pursuits,  and  States,  to  be  exclusive  in  their  in- 
tercourse, or  to  unite  on  any  symbols  of  superiority.     In- 
deed, an  aristocracy  consisting  only  or  mainly  of  the  best 
and  wisest,  is  but  a  speculation  of  philosophy,  or  a  poetic 
fantasy.     And  few  Americans  can  climb  high  on  a  gene- 
alogical tree.     It  will  do  for  a  Percy  or  a  Plantagenet, 
a  Montmorenci  or  a  Bourbon,  a  Braganza  or  a  Hapsburg, 
to  make  much  of  his  ancestry ;  because  it  is  from  five 
hundred  to  a  thousand  years  old,  and  then  he  has  not 
much  else  to  boast  of.     But  should  any  of  us  yesterday 
Occidentals,  blurt  his  pedigree  at  St.  James,  or  Schcen- 
brunn,  or  the  Escurial,  the  grandees  and  heralds  there 
would  soon  take  the  starch  out  of  his  republican  preten- 
sions.    And  although  many  of  us  roll  pills,  or  concoct 
pleas,  or  measure  calicoes  and  sugars,  yet  only  a  shallow 
brain  would  regard  these  occupations  as  more  respectable 
than  any  harder  use  of  the  fingers  given  us  by  the  Me- 
chanic of  the  universe.     There  are  a  few,  however,  who 
assume  the  exclusive,  by  putting  the  long  purse  in  the 
place  of  education,  rank,  and  polish.     This  is  the  "  Upper 
Tendom"  that  reposes  itself  on  cotton  bales,  tons  of  iron, 
and  barrels  of  pork ;  its  genealogy  is  a  ledger  or  a  cash- 
book  ;  its  escutcheon  is  a  bank  note.     These  barons  of  the 
dollar  are  reduced  to  commonalty  not  by  bills  of  attain- 
der, but  by  the  "  insolvent  act."     But  although  we  have 
no  aristocracy  in  the  common  sense,  yet  there  are  social 
eminences.     Many  reach  high  positions  by  their  energy 


21 

and  worth ;  many  unite  renown  and  modesty,  wealth  and 
goodness,  industry  and  elegance.  And  yet  there  is  a 
microscopic  sanctimoniousness,  and  an  obtrusive  "sans- 
culottism,"  that  would  destroy  social  varieties,  and  crib 
life  within  their  own  bald  conceptions  and  five-penny-bit 
expenditure.  But  away  with  that  hyperborean  rigidness 
which  would  freeze  up  the  freshness  and  flowers  of  life, 
and  pluck  the  feathers  from  the  angels'  wings.  Nature 
is  made  of  roses  as  well  as  of  cabbages,  emeralds  as  well 
as  pebbles.  Beauty  tinges  the  sky,  variegates  the  earth, 
and  beams  from  the  face;  fragrance  breathes  in  the  air; 
music  floats  on  the  wind,  murmurs  in  the  waters,  and 
rustles  in  the  leaves.  God  has  made  the  ornamental  as 
well  as  the  useful,  the  brilliant  as  well  as  the  solid.  He 
has,  accordingly,  gifted  us  not  only  with  physical  and 
moral,  but  with  aesthetic  faculties.  If  the  former  two 
have  the  first  claim,  yet,  when  money  is  plenty,  let  it  be 
largely  used  to  improve  the  latter.  We  ought  to  culti- 
vate not  only  virtue,  but  manners;  not  only  conscience, 
but  taste ;  not  only  knowledge,  but  sensibility.  The  fine 
arts  and  their  pleasures;  the  polish  of  exalted  inter- 
course; the  exquisiteness  of  a  complex  civilization,  that 
grace  of  life  which,  though  sometimes  perverted  to  set 
off  vice,  is  yet  the  natural  ally  of  virtue;  these  are 
at  once  proofs  and  means  of  progress ;  by  attracting  all 
upwardly,  they  increase  equality;  they  idealize  demo- 
cracy. 

But  while  aristocracy  is  rare  with  us,  so  is  pauperism. 
The  most  of  this  is  the  refuse  of  European  immigration. 
We  are  quite  strangers  to  social  extremes.  Coronets, 
coats  of  arms,  and  liveries  are  swept  to  the  moths, 
with  other  feudal  absurdities.  The  only  titles  are  "sir," 
"mister,"  "squire,"  "captain,"  or  "general."  The  only 
sovereign  is  the  voter.     The  only  sceptre  is  a  ballot  or  a 


22 

pen.  The  only  throne  is  an  editor's  chair,  or  the  stump. 
And,  alas  !  for  the  bathos  of  the  fact,  the  only  test  of 
manhood  is  a — white  skin.  Every  family  has  its  poor 
and  rich  relations  or  associates.  The  children  of  the 
millionaire  may  have  to  dig  coal  for  a  living.  And  the 
ragged  boy  that  paddles  in  the  gutters  to-day,  may,  in 
a  few  years,  be  the  leading  politician,  the  most  extensive 
manufacturer,  or  the  President  of  the  Union.  The  elec- 
tion day  is  the  very  sabbath  of  equality.  In  a  word, 
the  middle  class  not  only  rules  all,  but  is  all. 

Hence  it  is,  that  we  are  so  unparalleled  in  prosperity. 
Hence  it  is,  that  a  government,  not  so  much  of  force  as 
of  suasion,  maintains  infinitely  better  order  than  the 
grenadiers  of  Prussia,  the  cannon  of  Radetski,  and  the 
Cossacks  of  Nicholas.  Hence  it  is,  that  we  already 
imitate  the  military  glories  of  France,  rival  the  naval 
prowess  of  Britain,  and  exceed  the  conquests  of  Rome. 
Hence  it  is,  that  the  tides  of  Anglo-Saxon  energy  and 
freedom  are  pouring  all  over  the  continent,  and  the  Mis- 
sissippi valley  is  blooming  to  be  the  garden  of  the  world. 
Hence  it  is,  that  the  "  Universal  Yankee  Nation"  is  ex- 
ploring the  gorges  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  the  rivers 
of  Oregon,  and  the  mines  of  California ;  and,  from  the 
shores  of  the  Pacific,  confronts  and  startles  the  slumber- 
ing civilization  of  Asia.  Hence  it  is,  that  our  progress 
is  upward  as  the  eagle,  rapid  as  steam,  beneficent  as  the 
sunshine,  and  majestic  as  the  march  of  "  an  army  with 
banners."  Some  one  says,  This  is  a  great  country,  if  it 
were  only  fenced  in !  Why,  it  will  be  fenced  very  soon, 
by  the  roar  of  the  Atlantic,  the  wastes  of  the  Pacific,  the 
snows  that  hide  the  North  Pole,  and  a  railroad  across 
the  Isthmus  of  Panama! 

The  embryo  formation  of  the  middle  classes  was  the 
birth  of  modern  time.     Their  increase  and  improvement 


23 

is  the  progress  itself  of  modern  civilization.  Their  as- 
cendency distinguishes  the  nineteenth  century.  The 
merchants  of  the  Italian  republics,  the  burghers  of  the 
Hanse  towns  and  Imperial  cities,  the  guilds  and  com- 
mons of  England,  first  undermined  feudalism.  And  for 
some  centuries  past,  the  trading,  farming,  mechanic,  and 
learned  orders,  have  been  steadily  gaining  on  royalty, 
nobility,  and  hierarchy;  so  that  these  are  straitly  be- 
sieged by  public  opinion,  and  are  now  fighting  for  sheer 
existence.  But  though  kings  may  combine,  ministries 
contrive,  parties  counter-check,  and  legislatures  disap- 
point; though  ultraists  may  retard  what  they  would 
hasten ;  though  the  blood  of  insurgents  may  redden  the 
streets  of  Paris,  the  hills  of  Rome,  the  squares  of  Berlin, 
the  shores  of  the  Danube,  and  the  valleys  of  the  Rhine ; 
though  time  be  bewildered  in  a  labyrinth  of  revolutions, 
reactions,  diplomacy,  and  wars, — still,  Hope  is  the  true 
philosophy.  Ideas  will  vanquish  armies.  The  musty  in- 
stitutions based  only  on  tradition  will  be  packed  into  the 
wareroom  of  the  antiquary,  and  be  succeeded  by  living 
forms.  And  when  the  one  and  the  few  are  lost  in  the 
many,  so  that  civilization  has  been  repuhlicanizcd,  then 
the  pauper  and  debased  classes  will  loom  on  the  world's 
attention.  They  begin  to  do  so  now.  And  when  society 
feels  that  it  is  not  fraternal  enough;  when,  as  God's 
vicegerent,  it  finds  work  for  all,  and  bread  for  all  that 
will  work ;  trains  the  children  of  the  poorest ;  tends  the 
disabled,  and  reclaims  the  vicious ;  then  will  republicanism 
be  elevated  to  social  democracy.  Then  will  civilization 
work  its  most  momentous  problems  to  an  affirmative 
issue.  Then  will  history  tell  of  what  time  has  con- 
structed. Then  will  philosophy  and  life  coincide,  and 
reality  be  grander  than  poetic  visions.  Then  will  reli- 
gion be  the  soul  of  society,  and  society  the  thousand- 


24 


fold  expression  of  religion.  Then  will  all  classes,  all 
opinions,  all  occupations,  and  all  characters,  like  sound 
members  of  a  healthy  body,  be  assimilated  into  one  or- 
ganic, free,  equal,  and  fraternal  commonwealth. 


3B3ZTXT   ift 

85-12-8532198      HS 


LB2325.L77 

Obituary  addresses  delivered  on  the 

IMliinCet0n  Theol09'cal  Semmary-Speer  Library 


62 


1    1012  00085  21 


